Chapter 5
Five
LULU
Fuck that bitch. We’re living in a world of body positivity, and she has the goddamn nerve to tell me that I’m too fat to pour drinks?
She doesn’t know me or anything about me. I could probably run circles around her. Okay, maybe not run, because I only run if something’s chasing me, but it’s not like I can’t stand on my feet for an eight-hour shift and pour drinks.
“People suck,” I mutter to myself as I continue walking down the sidewalk, dodging people. I can’t get away from there fast enough.
“Lisa!”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Lisa, wait.”
Yep, that’s her voice. But that’s not my name.
So I ignore her and keep walking.
“Lisa!” I hear her heels working in triple time, and then she tugs on my arm, spinning me around. “Please, come back to the club.”
I lift an eyebrow and pin the hand on my arm in my gaze.
She drops it.
“I’m asking you to come back.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Wait.” She reaches out again but then thinks better of it and steps back. “Look, it doesn’t matter what I think because the boss wants you, so you’re in. I was instructed to come get you, so please, it could be life and death if you don’t come back with me.”
“Dramatic much?”
“I’m not kidding.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “That doesn’t sound like it’s my problem.”
Okay, I don’t buy for a minute that her life depends on me bartending at that club, but even I don’t want someone to die for me.
I need the job. It’s not like I have any other offers banging down the door of my crappy motel room.
“Please,” she says, huffing out a breath as she pushes her hair over one shoulder. She actually looks a little frazzled.
I’m enjoying it too much.
“Fine, I’ll come back.”
She nods once and turns to walk back to the club, her head high, her hips swaying back and forth in that tight dress. She’s getting plenty of looks. One guy whistles.
She doesn’t even bat an eye.
Madam Loveland pushes through the door to Rapture, and Scarlett’s head comes up. She offers me a beaming smile.
“You’re back!”
“Hey,” I reply with a little wave. “I guess fat girls aren’t so bad after all.”
“I told you, you’re not fat. You’re hot,” Scarlett says with a wink.
Is she hitting on me?
Unlikely.
But I smile at her before following Loveland through the door I went through earlier.
Rather than stopping at her office, she leads me to another room resembling a swanky locker room.
It’s nothing like what you’d find at a gym.
The lavish color theme follows inside, and there’s even a water feature, like something in a spa.
“Am I getting a massage?” I ask with a smirk. “This is … different.”
“You can stow your things in this locker,” Loveland says, opening a top locker for me. There’s a clean robe inside, I guess in case I want to take a shower later? That’s nice. “What you’re wearing isn’t our standard requirement for our bartenders, but it’ll do for tonight, I suppose.”
“I can wear jeans and a T-shirt from now on,” I assure her and watch as her face transforms into something horrific as if I just told her I’d play Christmas music in July.
“No. Absolutely not. Don’t you know anything about this place?”
“Actually, no. Because I went from being told I’m too fat to work here to being escorted to a locker. I’ve never even seen the bar.”
She sighs, closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “This is an elite sex club, Lisa.”
“Lulu,” I say, correcting her, and then feel the blood leave my face when her words sink in. “Wait. A sex club?”
I immediately have visions of a sea of bodies, gyrating and making noise, and bodily fluids, and I want none of it.
“Um, I don’t think—”
“You’ll be in the lounge,” Scarlett says, and my head whips over to her. I didn’t even hear her walk in. “Not in the playroom.”
“Is that … better?”
Loveland smirks. “Depends on who you ask.”
“There’s no sex in the lounge,” Scarlett continues, side-eyeing Loveland. “Everyone’s dressed. It’s where our clients begin their evenings before they’re ready to move on to the playroom and all of the fun inside.”
Okay, that makes me feel moderately better. I don’t have to watch people having sex.
“And I don’t have to, you know?”
Loveland shakes her head. “No. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. One of the perks of the job is a complimentary membership to the club. That in and of itself is worth a quarter of a million dollars.”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
Jesus, I was just hoping for medical and dental. Maybe a 401k.
“But you don’t have to use it,” Scarlett adds. “I’ll fill you in more later.”
“We’re short a bartender tonight,” Loveland says, “so you can start right away.”
“Wait. Will you be my manager?” I ask her. Because if so, I don’t think I want this job.
“No, I don’t run the bar. Rita does, and she’s bartending right now. She’ll be your direct supervisor.”
Good.
“Can I help her with her outfit before you take her out there?” Scarlett asks, and Loveland nods.
“I’ll let Rita know to expect you,” Loveland says before walking out.
“She’s lovely,” I say, my voice dry as the Nevada desert, and Scarlett smirks.
“She’s a Domme. She’s not the warm and fuzzy type.”
“Shocking.”
Scarlett taps her finger to her red lips. “Can I please help you with this outfit? The better you look, the more tips you’ll get.”
“I can use all the tips,” I reply, meaning every word.
“Okay, take off your shirt and your bra.” When I hesitate, she adds, “Trust me.”
As she hurries off, I do as she asks and sigh in relief when I take off the cheap bra I bought yesterday. Sometimes the girls need a break.
And my girls are big, and they require space.
But they’re not free for long because suddenly, Scarlett is in front of me with a corset.
“Uh, that doesn’t look comfortable for moving around the back of the bar.”
“It’s going to look hot.” She moves toward me, and then her eyes widen in shock. “Oh God, what happened?”
I look down and wince. “I got mugged and beat up a bit.”
“A bit?” She bites her lip and looks at the corset in her hand. “This won’t feel good at all. Plan B it is, then.”
She tosses the corset aside and passes me a pretty orange bralette that will go well with my brown slacks.
I pull that over my head and get the girls situated, and then she hands me a flowy orange top.
It’s cropped, so when I reach up, you’ll be able to see my midriff.
It’s a little see-through, but it’s classy and pretty, and I actually like it.
“We have all kinds of costumes around here,” she says with a wink as I pull on the top. “It’s fun to play with them. This is a great color on you and matches your pants. Now, let me touch up your makeup.”
“You’re being really nice to me.”
She pauses and glances back at me as she opens her locker and pulls out her makeup bag. “Why wouldn’t I? I like you. You’re new here, and I was new here once, too.”
“How long have you been here?”
“About three years. I work reception some nights, and some nights, I’m in the playroom.”
I swallow hard. “Do you …?”
“Have sex with the members? Of course, I do. And it’s fun as hell. But it’s not for everyone. Rita doesn’t. I don’t think she’s ever set foot in the playroom, let alone one of the private rooms. It’s whatever you prefer. Mr. Alexander is firm on everyone being comfortable.”
“Mr. Alexander?” I ask as she brushes some eye shadow on my eyes.
“He’s the owner. He’s hot, like, so fucking hot, but he doesn’t fraternize with the employees or the members. He’s professional. And he’s really, really good to his staff. Generous. He looks intimidating because he hardly smiles, but he’s fair.”
I nod, trying to take it all in.
“I don’t even know what my salary is.”
“Well, I know they’re eager to fill that spot at the bar, so they’ll go over it all with you soon. They’re generous. I don’t think you’ll do better on the Strip.”
She smiles as she steps back and takes in her handiwork.
“Okay, you’re ready. Have a look in that mirror and tell me what you think.”
I step over and then stare. Wow. My makeup isn’t over the top, but it’s bolder. The outfit is really pretty. I raise my arms, and sure enough, I get a full view of my midsection, bruises and all, but I’ll be careful.
“Come on,” Scarlett says. “I have to get back to reception, and you have a new gig to get to.”
I thought Rita was going to cry when Scarlett introduced me. Max grinned, raised his chin in hello, and kept pouring drinks.
They’re both gorgeous. Everyone here is stunning. Rita’s a tiny thing, with bleach-blond hair and piercings everywhere. She moves fast, and the customers love her.
Max is a Greek god. He’s tall, wide, cut, and has the most perfect white smile I’ve ever seen. He looks like he should be on the cover of Men’s Health.
And based on all the smiles, waves, and flirtatious kisses blown his way, he’s clearly popular with the ladies. I mean, what’s not to love?
“How are you with an old-fashioned?” Rita asks me.
“I’m great with it.”
She nods. “The guy at the end of the bar wants one.”
I glance over and feel my heart thump in my throat.
Holy fucking shit.
That man is … I don’t even know.
He’s sitting, but I can tell he’s a big man. His broad shoulders fill out his suit perfectly, his biceps bulging under the material. Tattoos peek up from the collar of his shirt and run down his hands to his knuckles. His dark hair is styled perfectly, while vivid blue eyes stare right back at me.
He wings up an eyebrow, and it shakes me loose from my stare.
He wants an old-fashioned, idiot.
I get to work making the drink, and when I set it in front of him, I manage a smile.
“Here you go.”
He sips, then licks his lips, and my stomach tightens.
“That might be the best old-fashioned I’ve ever had.
” His voice. Jesus, it’s deep and rich and makes my nipples pucker, and I have to swallow hard because this guy is dangerous for my libido, and he’s a customer.
I might be allowed to mess around with the members, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea.
I’ve been working at this job for about two hours … and I’d like to keep it.
So I wink at him and try to keep my hormones under control. “Of course, it is. Flag me down when you need another.”